A Candle in the Night
by princ3ssf33t
Summary: Through the thick and thin they were by the other's side. Always shining some sort of hope in the darkest moments. A series of one-shots based on a list of 100 themes. Royai.
1. Introduction

**1\. Introduction**

* * *

She had only been able to catch glimpses of him throughout the day. Not something that would necessarily surprise her in any case. As head of security for the whole event and for his personal well-being, she needed to be where she could coordinate with every single member of the security team. Even if it meant that she was far away from the side of the man she was protecting.

Because they had finally made it. After years and years of hard work, of setbacks and of tribulations, they had finally reached the end, and their goal. They had made Roy Mustang the Fuhrer of the country.

He had woken up that morning a General, and would go to bed the Fuhrer; Riza couldn't have been more proud about it. Not that she had had the opportunity to tell him that, what with all she had to coordinate for the day, not only for his safety, but for the soldiers standing guard and all of the civilians that would come to see their new leader being given his title. Foreign dignitaries had been extended invitations to attend, and while most had declined, those that came would require extra surveillance to ensure nothing happened while they were on foreign soil.

It went without saying that Riza Hawkeye was running on very few hours of sleep at this point. She was looking forward to when she would be able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time once this day was over.

But first she had to get their new Fuhrer to his new residence safely.

"Are you going to make me sit in the back of the car Captain?" He asked once she opened the door for him.

"That is the protocol sir," she answered, her voice cool and professional. Her rich brown eyes watched him as he shifted from one foot to the other, no doubt attempting to create an excuse to avoid protocol and sit in the front seat with her, like they had done when she had first come under his supervision.

"If you're done attempting to come up with an excuse, please get into the vehicle sir. I'm sure you would like to go home and relax for the rest of the evening." The corner of her lips twitched, betraying her amusement.

Roy sighed and climbed into the back of the car. Riza closed the door before climbing in the driver's seat. She started the car and pulled away from the remainder of the celebration. It was mostly enlisted men cleaning up after much of the party-goers migrated indoors to bars to continue the celebration.

Their drive was quiet. Perhaps it was the reality of what they were now tasked with doing was finally sinking in. That they had only achieved a stepping stone to their ultimate goal, and there would still be a tough road ahead of them. They weren't done yet.

Riza glanced back at Roy through the rearview mirror.

He was still the same as he was all those years ago when they had first met each other. The same untamable mop of inky black hair on his head, no matter how much product he used to slick it back. The same deep blue-black eyes that could look at things with wonder and amazement before becoming focused and determined. There was still same cocky smirk when he knew things were going his way, and the same soft smile that peeked out so rarely the public didn't realize that it existed. He was hardened, broken in ways that no man should ever have to be, but he was still the same Roy Mustang that had appeared on her porch all those years ago. The softness in his face now told her that.

He had been wearing that soft smile when he held his hand out to her then too.

She couldn't help but remember the day they had been introduced to the other. He had been standing on her porch, dripping water around his feet from the rain that was falling. When he had caught sight of her, he hastily attempted to fix his hair into something that had been presentable as he stuttered out his name. He failed, but Riza had been given an accurate glimpse of what living with the city-boy would be like.

"What are you smiling about, Hawkeye?"

Roy's voice broke through her recollections and she connected with his dark eyes in the mirror. With the soft unabashed affection he was watching her with, Riza felt the familiar flutter in her gut. She hoped that her face wouldn't give her away with the tinge of pink that would be impossible to hide. She turned her gaze back to the road without answering. They were nearly at his new residence.

She pulled in and parked in front of the home that was now his. Riza turned the vehicle off, but did not move to get out.

Roy leaned forward and took a lock of her short hair and tugged on it gently. Occasionally he found himself missing the long blonde hair that he could brush and run his fingers through, but the short hair provided him with a better opportunity to get even closer to her if he wanted to play with it. Which he found he almost liked better.

"What were you smiling about earlier?" He asked again.

His breath brushed the edge of her ear, and she repressed a shiver.

"I was thinking of the little boy who stood dripping wet on my porch who wanted to learn alchemy from my father when I was young. I was wondering how he would feel if he could see where he was now."

Riza watched Roy through the mirror. If she was expecting him to be embarrassed at the reminder of the time they had first met, he didn't say anything. The look on his face was contemplative. His fingertips continued to play with the short strands of her hair.

"I think, I think he would be satisfied at being able to have the opportunity to protect his entire country. The circumstances leading to this point however, would leave him disgusted and ashamed."

Roy heaved a sigh and rested his head against the top of the front seat. Gently, Riza reached up and ran her fingers through his slicked back hair. It lacked the softness that she normally associated with his hair, after many years of stroking it. All of the product he put in his hair that morning she assumed. She continued petting his hair anyway.

"You're still the same," she murmured.

Roy shifted. One dark eye peeked up to watch her face.

"Even in the midst of what should be one of your greatest achievements, you find a way to blame yourself and bring yourself down. Take the moment you've been given. Revel in it. Because tomorrow the hard work will really begin and there will be no turning back from this point on."

"Always a slave-driver aren't you, Lieutenant?"

Her fingers ceased their petting and she froze as soon as she heard her old rank slip from his lips. It had been many years since she held that rank in particular. She felt him stiffen as he realized what he had said. Riza drew her fingers away. Even in the privacy of the vehicle, it was still too dangerous for for such casual displays of affection.

Roy lifted his head from the seat and leaned back. His finger ran through his locks, messing them up even more than Riza's fingers had. He looked out the window and watched as a few of the guards stationed around his new domicile approached the vehicle, no doubt wondering what was taking the new Fuhrer so long.

He sighed. The moment was over. With one hand one the door handle, he went to open it but paused.

"Tell me one thing," he began. "What would that little girl say if she knew that the boy who dripped water all through her house on the night they met had made it this far?"

Riza smiled at looked at him through the rearview mirror again. The setting sun caught strands of his hair, illuminating them. His smile was the secret they shared.

"I'm sure she would be proud of what he had accomplished sir. And I'm sure she may have thought twice about hitting him in the face with the mop she used to clean the floors after him."

A short chuckle escaped from the back of his throat.

"Go home and get some sleep Captain. You deserve to rest as well. Don't think that I didn't notice you were running on fewer hours of sleep than you should be. I don't want to see those dark bags under your eyes the next time we're together, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

With that, he exited out of the vehicle and made his way to the other guards. Riza smiled as she watched him go. There was a lightness to his step that she hadn't seen for a long time. There was still a long process ahead of him, but she knew he would face it head-on and refuse to let anything stop him

Yes. He was just like that teenage boy who had stuttered through the introduction on her father's porch all those years ago. That was something to be proud of.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is the first in what should be 100 little fics based on a list of themes I've got. One down, ninety-nine to go. Please leave a review.**


	2. Complicated

**2\. Complicated**

* * *

It was a well known unofficial rule around Eastern Headquarters that there would be no talk of the relationship status of any of the members directly under Colonel Mustang's command. Especially when said members were within earshot of the conversation. Not unless you wished to be talked at about the problems one or the other were having. For everyone seemed to have to throw in their two cenz about the other officers personal lives with commentary.

It didn't stop those under Mustang's command from talking of it of their own free will. Loudly, and most often in midst of the cafeteria where everyone around them had no choice but to hear what they were complaining about.

Today's topic was being dominated by Havoc. For the third time that week. One would expect that there were only so many times that he could complain about having his girlfriend 'stolen' from him. Luckily for everyone within earshot that day, he wasn't discussing his lack of female companionship.

"If they think they're being subtle, they're in for the rude awakening," Havoc argued.

The other soldiers eating with Havoc were also under Colonel Mustang's command. Breda had about twice as much food on his tray as anyone else, yet seemed to be devouring it faster than the others were eating their own, less substantial portions. Fuery had an open notebook at his side where he was furiously scribbling out notes for someone or something; most likely something technical in nature. Falman had his own lunch from home and was eating quietly across from Fuery.

"Leave it be," Breda warned, gesturing to Havoc with a half-eaten hot dog. "You stick your nose in too far you're gonna get burned."

Havoc opened his mouth to protest, but Fuery beat him too it.

"Whatever is going on between them is none of our concern."

"Fuery is correct. What you're suggesting could be grounds for a court-martial on their parts," Falman supplied without looking up from his lunch. "Should the higher-ups hear of what you're suggesting, there is a possibility for them to lose their positions and be kicked out of the military. And I don't believe they would treat you very kindly if they found out you were the one to tip off the upper echelons about them."

Havoc frowned at his friends.

"Don't tell me that you don't see it too? I can't be the only one here."

Breda finished the second half of the hot dog before he leaned heavily against the table on one arm. He stared down at the man across from him, dropping his voice so those who might be eavesdropping would miss what he said.

"We're not saying anything of the sort. We're saying you need to keep your mouth shut about such things unless you want to get them both into deep trouble."

Havoc slumped in his seat.

"Things would be less complicated if they didn't insist on putting everything else before themselves." Havoc picked up his forked and poked at the vegetables on his plate. The appetite he had at the beginning of his lunch break had all but disappeared.

Havoc and his friends were silent. Indeed it would be easier and less complicated if those two had decided that for once they were going to just act selfishly for once. For them to give into the urges that Havoc and the others knew they felt under the surface. But they equally knew as well that those two would never seek to express them, not while they still had a country to fix, and felt the responsibility to do so.

Until the day when they decide to actually do something about those deeply buried and repressed emotions, Havoc and the others were going to have to be forced to sit through their unresolved emotional and sexual tension.

"Yes, but we aren't the ones to go interfering into their personal lives," Falman said as he calmly packed away the container he brought his lunch in.

"Whose personal lives?"

The reaction was instantaneous. There was not a man out of the four that failed to jump at the sudden appearance of the Lieutenant. Falman dropped the container he was returning back to the bag he had brought it in; the lid popped off and rolled under the table adjacent to them. Fuery had not been looking up, and at the sound of her voice, accidentally drew a thick line of ink across the notes he had been taking. Breda's food fell to the table and Havoc nearly fell from his seat.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye! How long have you been standing there?" Fuery squeaked. Even though he had not been attuned to most of the conversation, the anxiety at being within the proximity of the discussion was great.

"Not long. I only managed to take my lunch break a few minutes ago. There were some urgent papers that needed to be passed along to General Moore before this afternoon, after the Colonel signed off on them."

Hawkeye settled in a seat next to Havoc. She ladled some of her soup into the spoon, but didn't lift it to her mouth. She stared at the spoon for a few more moments before she put the spoon back down into the bowl. Her mouth was tensed into a firm line.

The soldiers that had transferred over with her stopped what they were doing and watched her as she merely picked at the food she had gathered on her tray. No one wanted to speak the dominant thought that was running through their brain. The Hawkeye that was seated before them wasn't the Hawkeye that was cool and professional while at work. This was the Hawkeye that was deeply worried about something, but refused to admit it.

Only those who knew Hawkeye well would know the difference.

"Is he in the Archives again?" Falman asked.

Hawkeye never verbally answered Falman's question, but the answer was plain to see on her face. She played with the soup in her bowl for a little while longer before she forced herself to eat some of it. Each sip was slow, and each spoonful wasn't filled to the brim. The bread that had come with the soup rested off to the side untouched. When she had eaten as much as she could force herself too, she stood.

"Excuse me gentlemen. I have to return to the office. Enjoy the rest of your lunch." Lieutenant Hawkeye walked away, intending to return her tray to the kitchen staff before heading back to the office. Presumably she would then either get to work on some of the paperwork Colonel Mustang was letting slide, or she would go in search of the man himself to get him to do the work assigned to him in the first place.

The rest of the staff watched her walk, noticing the tired gait to her stride.

"I wonder if he realizes what he's doing to the people around him?" Fuery asked absent-mindedly.

"The man is grieving. It's likely that he doesn't how his behavior is affecting those around him," Falman answered.

"Just another layer on the cake of complications," Breda muttered, wiping whatever food remained on his face off. "He really is blind isn't he?"

"Does everything have to jump back to food with you? Does your brain reside in your stomach or something?" Havoc challenged.

"At least I don't do most of my thinking from below the waist," Breda shot back.

Their bickering continued on, neither really looking to give heavy blows and hurt the other. As the light-hearted jabs were traded back and forth with each other, Fuery and Falman tuned them out, each focusing on the lieutenant that had left the cafeteria and the colonel she was stationed under.

They had never seen a relationship so complex and complicated before. Even Falman with his ex-wife had less layers than their superiors. There was no layered history between them as there was with the colonel and the lieutenant. There was no war guilt. There was no inward drive to correct the atrocities they committed, not atone, never atone. No deep desire to receive the righteous punishment they thought they deserved.

There were many things that they would never fully understand about the colonel and the lieutenant. But perhaps that was alright. As long as they understood what the two of them were striving for and they believed in the good they could do, they were worth following.

* * *

 **A/N: I haven't forgotten about this I swear. I just like to have at least a part of the next theme written before posting if not completely done. The next theme has been a little more difficult than this one. Don't be afraid to leave a review.**


	3. Making History

**3\. Making History**

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was suppose to have returned and Master Hawkeye would have given what Roy said a thought, and realized the boy had made a point, and then taught him the secrets to his Flame Alchemy. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did, with his Master confined to a bed, with only minutes to spare before his coughing overtook him and he succumbed to his complete death in front of Roy's eyes. Little Miss Riza—not so little anymore—wasn't supposed to be left with large debts and no way to pay them off. And he most certainly wasn't supposed to learn the secrets of possibly the most powerful alchemy in the world off of the naked back of a girl barely of age.

But life was as cruel as it was beautiful.

From the moment he cracked the cipher and read his master's notes with perfect clarity he understood why his master had gone through such great lengths of hiding it. This was not to say he understood why it was forever marked onto the back of a young girl, stripping away any chances she may have had at a normal life with normal relationships. But he understood why his master had felt the need to go through such great and drastic lengths to keep it hidden. This _was_ possibly the powerful alchemy in the world. And in the wrong hands, there would be nothing to come from it from total disaster.

But Riza and Roy were going to make sure that that wasn't going to happen. That had been the only reason why she had given him the secrets in the first place. Because she trusted that he wouldn't misuse the power she would give him.

If he could figure out how to create a spark that was.

The theory was beautiful, and actually quite simple once it was understood. He would alchemize the oxygen in the air around wherever he wanted the fire to go, leading back to himself and a spark to ignite it, leading to an explosive flash of flames. The problem was creating the spark.

Roy supposed he could carry around a lighter to gain the initial spark, but those ran the risk of running out of lighter fluid, an ingredient that was a necessity when it came to creating that first flame or of being misplaced.

And considering Roy did not currently know where his pen was, it was highly likely he would lose the lighter at one point or another. Most likely when his life would most depend on his capability to use that alchemy to save his own skin. Then all of the knowledge about Flame Alchemy he had learned would be rendered useless.

"Mister Mustang? Dinner is ready downstairs when you're ready."

Miss Riza's voice came suddenly through the door, startling Roy. How had she managed to get up the stairs without alerting him via the creaking steps? The question wasn't in his mind for long however, for in his haste to get up and answer the young woman's call, he smacked the back of his head into the open drawer of his desk. He yelped in pain and shock and clutched the back of his head.

"Is everything alright in there?"

Riza wouldn't enter his room without his explicit permission. Perhaps not even then. The way her father had raised her had left her shuffled off to the side, seconded to the research that consumed him whole. Relegated to hallways and alcoves to stay free of the alchemy's grasp. Even if it was futile and it had found her in the end.

"No! I'm—I'm fine. I'll be down in a minute or two. Just bumped my head against the desk," Roy answered back.

Hoping that his verbal reassurance would be enough to coax Riza to going back downstairs, he was relieved when he heard her near-silent footsteps leave. Again, he didn't hear the creaky step as she walked back down the stairs. Roy frowned to himself, wondering how she managed to do that so well. She must have learned it from her father. Master Hawkeye had been able to do that too. It used to startle Roy when he had first arrived at the Hawkeye's. Although could have been because he had been so immersed in the alchemy to notice his surroundings.

Roy's hand dropped to the floor beside him. That was it. He was so focused on the alchemy in front of him he had forgotten that Master Hawkeye had figured this all out already. He would have thought of a practical way to achieve the very result that Roy was searching for. Roy just needed to find it.

He dashed into his master's old study without remembering that dinner was ready and waiting for him downstairs.

* * *

Making about as much noise as a herd of elephants she assumed would make, Riza heard Mr. Mustang run down the hallway as she sat down at the small kitchen table. He must have figured out a way to get past the block that had been consuming him for the past day or so. If that was the case, she could reasonably expect that Mr. Mustang would not be making his presence known any time soon.

In that aspect he was nearly identical to her father.

A chill ran down her spine and she fought the urge to shake. No, he wouldn't turn out like her father. He cared for more than just alchemy and the power that came with it. That had been the reason why he had left to join the military in the first place. Even if he hadn't explicitly told her prior to leaving, it was clear through his actions that he wanted to help everyone, protect everyone. Why else would he have started that fight in town square a few weeks before he left?

Appetite suddenly gone, Riza stood from her chair and walked to the space she had set for Roy. She was glad that she hadn't dished any of the stew out already for him. It would have long lost its heat as it sat waiting for him. She contemplated leaving everything laid out for him, for when he came down, but decided against that. Riza had no way of knowing when he would finish whatever he was doing and come down to eat. By that time, the stew may have lost all heat.

Riza set the heavy lid back onto the top of the pot and carried it over to the stove top. Igniting the gas, she turned the burner as low as it would go. That should be able to keep it warm enough until he decides that he needs to come down and eat, or until he finds whatever he was looking for.

Yawning, Riza looked to the clock. It was late. And while she was tired, she wasn't quite ready to go to bed just yet. Perhaps she could get through a good portion of her novel that she had been meaning to finish. Some time away from alchemy of any kind would be good for her.

* * *

"RIZA!"

Startled awake, the book that was resting on her chest was flung to the floor as she jerked upright.

She had never made it up to her room after she took care of dinner. She had settled in the parlor where the largest fireplace was and snuggled into one of the better armchairs and read her book until she had fell asleep. With a throw tossed across her legs, the soft lighting, and the soothing sound of fire crackling, it wasn't long before the words began to blur and drift from the page and she fell asleep.

Fearing that something horrible had happened again—the last time he had shouted her name in such a manner, she had entered the room to see her father on the floor dead—she fought to free her legs from the tangle of her blanket to get to the yelling alchemist.

She had barely freed her legs and feet when he burst through the door, his face flushed and a wide smile across his face. Once he saw her within the parlor, he excitedly made his way toward her. In his excitement, he tripped over his own foot and stumbled the last few feet and into Riza's arms. She caught his elbows to prevent them from tumbling into the armchair she had just vacated.

They had barely straightened when he started speaking rapidly. Riza could barely catch what he was saying through his excitement. She squeezed his elbows tightly, having never let go of him after they stood back up.

"Slow down. I can't understand what you're saying. Take a deep breath and then try telling me again what you found."

Roy nodded and closed his eyes as he followed her orders. Then he repeated it a few more times after that. By the time he finally had composed himself enough to speak at a normal rate, he still had not let go of her upper arms.

"I did it, Riza. I figured it out."

Riza scrunched her eyebrows up in puzzlement. She had known this already. He had managed to crack the last level of encryption a few days prior and had been shut up in his old room to attempt to put the theoretical into practice.

Reading her face, Roy hastened to explain.

"How to transfer my flames from the circle to the target. I figured it out Riza. Come on, I'll show you."

His hands slid down her arms and grabbed a hold on her wrist. Gently, but urgently, he pulled Riza from the parlor and down the hall to the back porch. The night sky was beginning change from the inky black and blue to the lighter pastels of the morning dawn. It wouldn't have been very long before Riza would have had to wake up and begin her morning chores.

Dropping her wrist, Roy picked up an old rusting lighter he had probably found somewhere within the house and a perfect alchemical circle carved onto the side. He gestured for her to wait off to the side, a safety precaution she was sure. She had the utmost faith in his ability to perform her father's alchemy perfectly.

Roy took a few more deep breaths before opening his eyes and focusing on his target. A brush pile that Riza had been working to get rid off for the past few weeks. With a depression of his thumb, the flame appeared at the top of the lighter. A few seconds later, the familiar jagged lightning appeared as he begun his transmutation. Riza watched as the flame suspended above his hand traveled across the yard, hardly deviating from the path he set, and ignited the dry brush pile that had been as tall as Riza when Roy had returned to learn Flame Alchemy from her father. With the transmutation over, Roy extinguished the flame and dropped his hand to the side, watching as the brush pile burned low.

Riza turned to look up at him. She had always been smaller than him, but now the difference between them seemed larger. Or perhaps he was just that much larger than her after attending the academy. She would have been a fool to have not noticed that he wasn't the skinny teenage boy she had known all those years ago.

"You did it," she whispered. Not that there was any doubt in her mind. "You're going to make history with that alchemy of yours."

It was his. It had stopped being her father's once she had shown Roy her back.

"No, Riza. We're going to make history." Roy looked down at her, with pride in his eyes, with a mix of another lingering emotion. But he blinked and it was gone in a second. "I couldn't have done this without you, and for that I will forever be in your debt."

They looked into each other's eyes for a few moments more, before the charged air between them became too much and they broke their gaze. Both parties settled to look at the smoldering remains of what had been the brush pile. The sky was turning more orange and pink as the sun rose higher from behind the mountainside. A slight breeze chilled Riza through her light sweater.

"Just make good on your promise, Roy."

Riza felt his eyes drop down to look at her, but she didn't tear her eyes from the red sunrise. Gently, she felt as he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer to him. For a moment she tensed before easing into the embrace. Together they watched the sun rise from behind mountain peaks for new day.

"I promise Riza."

* * *

 **A/N: This prompt was giving me a lot more difficulty than usual. I had to start over three separate times before I came up with something I reasonably liked, this being the result. Hopefully the next update won't take two months again. Please leave a review. Thanks.**


	4. Rivalry

**4\. Rivalry**

* * *

If anyone were to ask any of the Eastern soldiers about their thoughts were on the Northern/Eastern joint training, they would receive much of the same answers. The Eastern forces were better equipped to handle offensive measures and tactics, and they were nearly unparalleled in strategy with minds such as Lieutenant General Grumman and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang calling the shots.

But that wasn't saying that the Northern forces weren't formidable. They were just specialized towards defensive rather than the offensive. Mercy wasn't something that was associated with Briggs Bears. Nor was it something that was ever considered to be a trait of their Major General Armstrong. They were fierce and loyal, something that was feared and respected by the rest of the military.

That was the answer soldiers would normally give. When the joint training exercises were held within the familiar dry territory of the Eastern region. Ask the men any questions while they were in the north, the answers given were something completely different.

"I can't feel my face anymore," some would say, with the red cheeks and frosted beards to corroborate what they said.

Others would complain about feeling as if certain parts of anatomy had shrunk, which would lead to the expected teasing from his squadmates that would devolve into childish taunts. The behavior exasperated their superiors, but even if just a moment, it took everyone's minds off of the freezing cold.

It was supposed to be spring. _This_ was not spring. Spring was the smell of fresh blossoms on the trees, the sounds of children splashing in the melted runoff, and the sight of dirt everywhere as many people started planting in their gardens and on their farms again. Not the sight of snow piled as high as one-story houses and the overall freezing temperatures.

"Has anyone seen Lieutenant Colonel Mustang?" Second Lieutenant Hawkeye asked as she made her way through the tables of the mess hall that feed all of the Eastern troops.

Most didn't answer her. They were too busy attempting to ingest as much hot coffee as was allowed. Some managed to look up to answer her, but all of their answers were the same.

No one had seen the Lieutenant Colonel.

It wouldn't be anything to be concerned about if they were back in East City. Hawkeye knew his habits as well as she knew the man. She knew where he would go in Eastern Command if he needed a few moments to get away from everything being a colonel meant, to allow himself a moment to be human. She also knew when he would be out with one of his 'dates' and when he would be engaging the Lieutenant General over a game of chess.

But this wasn't East City. This was Briggs, and she hadn't seen her charge since the night before when they separated to sleep in their bunks with the promise to meet up again before the final day of the training exercises.

Thanking the men for their patience, Hawkeye left the mess hall and went searching for him in the tunnels of Briggs. Perhaps something had happened in the night and he was called off to discuss in an urgent meeting. But he would have found someone to tell her where he was headed and approximately when he would be back.

Hawkeye was worried.

Not for his safety per se—she was always worried about his safety—but about his mental health. This particular bout of training exercises couldn't have come at a worse time. The first year mark since they returned from Ishval was near. She had been keeping a close eye on him in the previous weeks for any sign that something was amiss in her commanding officer. She needed to be there if he had a breakdown, to help him regain his footing and remind him of what he was working for now.

She had seen the small flinches when they started firing the anti-tank guns and kept a sharp eye on him whenever they were together. Her own scores probably weren't as high as what they could have been when it came to the sharpshooting, but she was highest scoring sniper and was congratulated heavily for it. It had even caught the attention of one Major General.

General Armstrong had approached her soon after that to offer her congratulations on besting her men. Hawkeye had managed to nod her head and politely say her thanks before the General walked away with a look of contemplation on her face.

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang was equal parts pleased and concerned when the subject came up at lunch the previous day thanks to Havoc.

Hawkeye walked swiftly through the dreary halls of the fort. He wouldn't leave without telling someone where he went. He had been sharing a bunk with Havoc, so it was likely that he told him where he was headed. Unless he took Havoc with him. Havoc was an efficient soldier, but didn't understand the small idiosyncrasies that Hawkeye did.

She was about to turn back and start her sweep again at the mess hall when voices caught her ear and her foot stilled. Eavesdropping was not the professional thing to do, but she thought that one of the voices sounded like the missing colonel she was searching for.

"What is it you would like to speak to me about General? I doubt you wish to discuss the tactics my Eastern forces used yesterday to best yours. Although if you were looking for some pointers, I would be happy enough to spend some time giving you some assis-"

"Keep your perverted flirting to yourself. I need none of your ' _pointers_ ' to best you in this rivalry between our regions. Every single one of my men are worth at least double than a single platoon of yours."

There was a growing tone of irritation in General Armstrong's voice. Hawkeye could imagine that the general was beginning to finger the sword that she kept by her side at all times. She crept closer to the door Armstrong and Mustang's voices were coming from. If she were caught eavesdropping on superior officers, her punishment wouldn't be lenient.

"Then what business do you have with me, if not for my dizzying intellect? Surely it wasn't just for my company? Because I'll have you know that anything between us simply wouldn't work."

Mustang was keeping the flirtatious facade up. It would get him nowhere with the general, but it would cement the facade he was attempting to build. If he could keep it up under the intimidating gaze, then there would be little reason to worry about his acting should inquires come up in the future.

"I'd say I'd rather find myself in the company of worms than you, but that would be an insult to the worms," the sneer in Major General Armstrong's voice was audible. There was a small pause before she continued speaking. "How well do you know Second Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"Professionally, or personally?"

Hawkeye heard a guarded edge creep into Mustang's voice now. A dash of fear crept into Hawkeye's throat. The feeling puzzled her somewhat. What did she have to fear? Their relationship was strictly that of one between a superior and subordinate. Their personal histories about what had happened while he was an alchemic student of her father's held no ground to the way they behaved now. There was nothing to hide on their parts.

Even if there had been some strange occurrences when she was within his company at times. Like the time when he had fallen asleep beside her on the train to Central. A bump in the tracks had him sliding down the seat to the point where his head rested on her shoulder. And rather than remove him, Hawkeye simply let him sleep there until their stop came up. She had almost been disappointed when she had to wake him to deboard the train.

"I would like to discuss with her the option of transferring up here, under my command." Armstrong didn't bother to answer the Lieutenant Colonel's question, getting straight to what it was that she wanted to talk about.

Hawkeye allowed herself a small inhalation through the nose. It wasn't loud enough to be a gasp or to be heard by those who were conversing behind the door, but it was a tiny break in the immaculate persona that was Second Lieutenant Hawkeye.

Her? Transfer north? To be under the Major General's command? The offer would be appealing for anybody else, plenty of opportunity for growth and to move up the chain of command. Not many wanted to command troops in the frozen wasteland that was the Northern territory. People were often isolated in the long winter months and only the strongest were able to survive it. According to Armstrong in any case.

But she couldn't. She wasn't looking to progress higher up the chain of command. She didn't want to lead men into battle. She was a sniper, a solitary individual. Even when she was a child she had mostly been off on her own. Besides, she had given her word to stand at Mustang's back and ensure that he made it as he pushed his way towards the top. That was her place in life.

Hawkeye's thoughts were so dominating, she nearly missed her commanding officer's response.

"No. There is no need for discussion. I can tell you right now, the answer will be no."

There was a scoff from the woman inside the room.

"Do you know her so well that you need not consult her before slamming the door in opportunity's face for her? Anyone can see that her talents are being wasted serving as your secretary. A sniper belongs in the field, not forcing a paper-pusher to do his work."

"Ask her if you must, but you will get the same response from her as you got from me. There will be no transfer of my lieutenant." His tone indicated that he was finished talking about the matter. Soon afterward, Hawkeye heard the familiar thud of his boots as he walked toward the door.

"Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgement, Mustang. Feelings such as yours and the attempt to keep what's held most dear close will bring your downfall if you do not learn to reign them in. I would hate to lose a soldier such as Hawkeye because of your stupidity."

Mustang's footprints stopped just on the other side of the door. Hawkeye could almost see him with his hand resting on the handle and his face attempted to remain blank. Perhaps he would have turned his head to look at the general or perhaps he was staring resolutely at the door. Either way, he was most likely failing to keep some of the color from his face.

The sudden silence echoed for a few more seconds before Lieutenant Colonel Mustang responded quietly.

"As would I."

Mustang yanked the door open without waiting for a dismissal from the higher ranking officer and stepped out into the hall. The look of surprise only heightened the color in his cheeks when he saw she was standing nearby. Silently, he motioned for her to follow him.

As always, she fell two steps behind him as they headed toward the mess hall again.

They were about halfway there before Mustang did an about-face, grabbed her arms and directed her through the nearest door.

It was a janitorial closet.

Hawkeye barely opened her mouth to ask what he had dragged them into the closet for when he beat her to it.

"How much did you hear?" His head was bowed and his shaggy black hair blocked her from seeing his eyes.

Hawkeye swallowed before answering. "Since the pointers, sir."

Mustang swore and looked up at her face. His midnight blue eyes were desperate and searching as he took in every inch and curve of her face. His hands were still gripping tightly to her arms. Not enough to cause pain or bruising, but enough so she wouldn't be able to break his hold easily. The color that had been in his cheeks disappeared as his face paled.

"I apologize if what I said crossed the line in any manner. If I've overstepped my bounds as your commanding officer."

Hawkeye knew it was dangerous. She was shut inside a closet with her superior officer, on a foreign base where she didn't know any of the routines of the staff and soldiers that lived there. The door was unlocked and anyone could be able to walk inside and see the compromising position of the two officers in the closet. But it didn't matter. Gently she reached up and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand before resting her palm there. He unconsciously leaned into her hand.

"There's no need to apologize sir. I would have given the same answer. Sans the flirting."

Hawkeye felt his cheek twitch as a smile attempted to break through the mask on his face.

"But you should really be more careful about the way you answer requests like that. I doubt General Armstrong will bring up your small indiscretion, but she's not likely to forget it, and may use it against you in the future should you stand in her way."

Mustang's face slid into the familiar smirk she saw nearly every day.

"Then we best divert all of her attention towards the rivalry between the northern troops and the eastern troops then. She'll be too worried about not letting East win the training exercises to even think about my little mistake there."

Mustang's hands dropped from her arms to rest at his side before he moved suddenly and wrapped his arms around her. The sudden movement trapped one of her arms between them and the hand that had been resting on his cheek slid to rest behind him. His face was pressed into the space between her shoulders and her neck, as was hers. His smell was the same as when he had burned her back. Flint and a slight woodsy scent she recognized as his cologne.

Too soon he pulled away. He opened the door and peered into the hallway to check if the coast was clear for both of them to vacate the closet before stepping out and holding the door open for her. She gave him a faint smile as she passed through the open doorway and fell into step behind him as they strode towards the mess hall to grab whatever remained of breakfast.

Then they had one final day of the joint training to do, and they weren't about to let the victory go to Major General Armstrong.

* * *

 **A/N: I said that it wasn't going to take two months to get this one out didn't I? I can't make any claims as to when the next one will make it here, but hopefully school won't dominate every second of my life. Please leave a review, those really can make my day.**


End file.
